


The Other Flaw in the Plan

by detritius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canonical Character Death, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detritius/pseuds/detritius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something else Voldemort didn’t account for…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Flaw in the Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Awhile back, I wrote a Harry Potter/Supernatural crossover, and I can't really remember why, and nothing I say can make it less ridiculous. I'm easily amused, though, so I'm posting it here.
> 
> The first few lines, up to the spells, are from Deathly Hallows chapter 36, "The Flaw in the Plan."

“But you’re too late,” said Harry. “You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him.”

Harry twitched the hawthorne wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it.

“So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco’s wand:

_“Avada -”_

_“Expelliarmus!”_

The bang was like a cannon blast. It was closely followed by another, just as loud. Harry saw the red arc of his own spell go wide, bouncing off the far wall. Voldemort’s body crumpled to the floor, the Elder Wand falling from his limp, white hand. All eyes in the Hall watched it as it rolled away, coming to rest under the Hufflepuff table. Harry blinked, looking from Voldemort’s body, lying cold and inert on the marble floor, two thin tendrils of smoke rising from his stilled chest, to the wand in his own hand.

From somewhere behind him, an adolescent voice said, “Nice shot, Dean!”

From the same direction, “Thanks, kid.”

Slowly, Harry turned toward the strangers’ voices, but on catching sight of them, he did a double take, sure he wasn’t seeing them properly. At the far end of the Hall stood a pair dirty, underfed boys. The older of the two was around his own age, leveling a metal, tubelike instrument that Harry vaguely recognized as a sawed-off shotgun. The younger looked no older than a fourth or fifth year, skinny and leggy, with a rucksack slung over one shoulder. Both were wearing jeans and trainers; if they weren’t Muggles, they were certainly well disguised. “Sorry,” Harry said, over the expectant silence of the crowd, “but who the hell are you?”

The older boy stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I’m Dean, this is Sam,” he said. “Heard you had something of a demon problem, so we thought we’d stop by, check it out.”

The Hall, which had been silent up until now, broke out into whispering and murmuring. “Demons?” asked Hermione, stepping away from the throng. “There’s no such thing as demons!”

“Uh, what do you call that, then?” the older boy, Dean, asked, gesturing at Voldemort’s body with the barrel of his gun.

The younger boy rolled his eyes and stepped forward. “Listen,” he said in a voice that would have sounded reasonable and adult if it wasn’t cracking with pubescence. “There have been dozens of disappearances over the past couple months, all centering around this area. People have been reporting apparitions, unexplainable weather phenomena. All signs of powerful demonic activity. And this place…” He gestured around at the towering enchanted ceiling and gleaming marble floor of the Great Hall, shaking his head. “The EMF of this place is off the charts, and honestly, the whole haunted castle ruin thing is a cliche for a reason.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “You might want to find a safer place to hold your lazer light shows.”

Hermione crossed her arms, her know-it-all demeanor not hiding her indignation, and Harry knew she was going to let them have it. He felt a righteous sort of pleasure at the thought. How dare these two strangers show up now and try to take credit for all the work they’ve done? “So you’re saying the hostile takeover of the Ministry of Magic, the raids against the Order of the Phoenix, and the persecution of countless Muggleborns was all the work of _demons?_ ” Hermione asked, smiling humorlessly.

The boys shared a lost sort of look that Harry himself had worn all too often when talking with Hermione, but he felt no sympathy for them. “Sweetheart,” Dean said, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Hermione, snidely. “You’re - you’re just some Yankee hick who’s too _stupid_ to know when he’s in over his head.”

The younger boy’s eyes snapped between the look of bewildered hurt on his companion’s face and Hermione’s triumphant little smile. “Yeah, well, making up words doesn’t make you sound smarter,” he snapped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Oh,” Hermione asked hotly, “Making up words, am I?”

“Yeah! And -”

“Sam,” Dean said, the warning clear in his tone.

But Sam didn’t listen. “And you know what?” he said, “It doesn’t matter if that thing was a demon or not. Maybe it was some kind of vengeful spirit or a really ugly shapeshifter or God knows what else. But if my brother hadn’t gotten here in time, it would have melted that smirk right off your face!”

Hermione bristled and opened her mouth to speak, but Ron grabbed her arm before she could get a word out. “Come on, Hermione,” he said. “You can’t pick a fight with a twelve year old.”

Beyond them, the two boys were talking in low voices. “We just saved their ass, Dean,” Sam said, his voice rising in a whine. “They’ve got no right to treat us like this!”

Dean said something too low for Harry to hear in reply and rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Then he put on a big, fake-cheerful smile and turned to the room at large. “Well, y’all enjoy your demon-free haunted castle thing,” he said. “We gotta be going. Come on, Sam.” The two of them turned, hands in pockets, and walked out into golden dawn.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Sam grumbled as he walked away.

“You’re telling me? Seven hours in the air just so Dad can go chasing after some banshee, and he leaves us in the middle of nowhere to deal with this shit. Some vacation.” 

They passed through the doors and disappeared into the sunlight. Harry thought he heard the roar of an engine, and then even that was gone.

Everyone in the Great Hall looked at each other, finding no answers in each other’s faces. They looked down at Voldemort’s corpse, and out the open doors. “I think I speak for everyone,” Ron said, “when I ask what in the name of _Merlin’s pants_ just happened?”


End file.
